First on the docket is this hilarious NY Times headline:
"Text Generation Gap: U R 2 Old (JK)"
That just made me laugh. A lot. It's the capitalization that makes me hysterical.
Anyway!
Reaching back a few days ago...
On March Fourth (the date is important later), I ventured into Long Island City, Queens, to Exile ("a Tammany Hall facsimile") for the first annual members-only party for The Society for a Subliminal State. Phew. The Society, founded by my dear friend Jesse and his friend/partner in crime Carrie Dashow, is the umbrella under which he conducted his tour of New York State this summer....where he wrote shape-note music about the Erie Canal. (Obviously, I loved this.) I became a member this summer and was invited to 'march forth' with them into a new year of subliminality. Or whatever that word would be.
What is now Exile started out as Peretti Hall, a hangout for mobsters, bootleggers, and wild folks back in the thirties and forties. It's a big old building that has a stage on the second floor, and a really beautiful hardwood bar with red, white and blue mirrors (installed when the Democratic party in LI City was in with the mob) behind it. The building deteriorated after days as a disco/punk club but has been revamped and now is sort of a live-in studio for a wide variety of artists, musicians, and the like. Needless to say, this place is crazy. (There was a black velvet painting of Vincent Price on the wall-- I was in heaven.) There were taxidermied crows, paintings of clowns, ancient display cases for theatrical posters filled with weird foreign-film paraphernalia...all sorts of crazy things.
I made the famous coconut cake (box cake, sweetened condensed milk, cream of coconut, toasted coconut, whipped cream....Justin says it's banned by the Geneva Convention) and met Lauren so we could go together. She brought a whole chicken. I brought my chicken purse. Bok bok. (Corny?) We arrived in time for some drinks (I favored "The Escarpment," which was Canadian Club Whiskey and VERNOR'S!) and the potluck, where we all introduced ourselves and told each other news. Lauren and I created a drinking game-- drink at the mention of any of the following phrases/words: vegetable-oil-powered car; biosphere; sustainable agriculture; green; environment; etc etc etc. We drank a lot. I said "Um.....I'm in a show? At Town Hall? Stoppard....?" We sang songs from the summer tour, went on the roof to admire the skyline, took the Subliminal Society oath, and listened to a lovely and thoughtful set from Nina Katchadourian and Hannah somebody, who played, among other things, Rocket Man, a song with lyrics taken from "Six Easy Pieces" (think isotopes), and a musical version of some hippy-dippy thing Jimmy Carter wrote to send into space. Amazing.
And I trekked back to Williamsburg, late in the evening, with the delightful Matt Raibert (who said our adventure was like "...the time they go to Queens on The Burg-- do you watch the Burg? You should. It's funny.") We tossed around words like 'profligate' and 'skinflint,' debated whether it's necessarily insanity that causes us to think we know everyone we see, and were basically goofy.
All in all: lovely.
And then I went to Boston.
So, I understand that if I lived in Boston and worked (didn't work, more like it) there and had to deal with it on a daily basis, it wouldn't seem like heaven. But coming from here, now, it seemed a little bit like the Promised Land. A land filled with Russian candy and iced yerba matte, burritos from Anna's and only a handful of fixed-gear hipsters. And a stupid public transportation system. I know I made the right choice in moving out of Boston, and specifically in moving to New York. I know this. But I have to say that surrounded by my friends, walking through Coolidge Corner and being back at CFA....it was tempting to just say "Hell, I'll just move back here. It's PRETTY here."
But really? I don't want that.
I had rehearsal right after I got there on Wednesday and it was surreal- trying to recall blocking from a year ago so that I'd fit in to what they've already been rehearsing for a few weeks, trying to remember the lines I recently dusted off in my brain...but also, it was sort of like I went back in time to the first time we did the show. All the same stupid jokes and silliness. Only this time around, Jim is 50 pounds skinnier.
After this, I went to Sunset for booze with Jeffry, Jason and Dave. We had the worst waiter in history who gave me $20 when I asked him for change for a ten. I felt guilty and returned it and the way he responded made it seem like it had been a test. Perhaps it was. Perhaps. It. Was.
And then the night was taken over by dinner at Tani's apartment in the South End with many friends, eating ice cream and watching "The King of Kong," which is now one my favorite movies. It is INCREDIBLE and I can't recommend it enough. I slept there (didn't sleep-- Karl and I stayed up half the night re-creating our stupid 'newlywed couple' routine that happens when we sleep in the same place) and in the morning we glutted ourselves at Charlie's. Then we walked around the South End, went leisurely shopping in Coolidge Corner, ate Russian goodies in a park...basically, had a delightful time.
And.....this is boring for anyone but me. Moving on!
Nitz and I saw Karl's show at BPT, "Gary," which was really interesting and full of stuff. And Karl played the bass in it and looked unbelievably cool. Yesterday I had lunch with Gordie ("Boston is kinda corny," says he) and Grace, then had four hours of rehearsal, tried on my sexy but stern, strict but attractive suit, and ran to the bus. I was home before midnight and fell asleep watching Garp. Life is good.
Today I ate pizza in the rain and had a crazy attack of sadness that lasted for about half an hour. And now I'm at work. The wind is making the door creak. I wish I had some candy.
Oh, also. My picture was in the NY Times. My head was as big as half a pea, but I was in there. Here's the information for my show:
Every Good Boy Deserves Favour
at The Town Hall
Friday, March 14th
8:00 pm
Ticket info:
http://www.bu.edu/cfa/incite
Let me know if you think you want to come. It's a fun show, it's short, and Tom Stoppard might be there. (If he is, I'm going to flash him from the stage. I told Jim and he said "Well, I'll be in the bar, so...")
And that is that.
2 comments:
Uh, since when is Gordie Holden Caulfield? (I'm rereading Catcher for a class and I had forgotten that every third word is "corny").
oh man, i didn't remember that either. maybe i've got a touch of the holden, too....i've been using that word a lot. mostly in reference to myself.
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